


Wasn't Really Looking for a Weighted Octopus

by betheflame



Series: Shorts & Drabbles 2019 [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety Attacks (Not Shown), Bucky Barnes & Shuri Friendship, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-17 21:30:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19963513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betheflame/pseuds/betheflame
Summary: Panic attacks are a bummer, so Bucky tries some weighted blankets. Steve has questions.





	Wasn't Really Looking for a Weighted Octopus

**Author's Note:**

> A tweet I saw from [ bvckbarnes](https://twitter.com/bvckbarnes/status/1153802768798244870), quoted by  amethystkrysal , would not leave my fecking brain.
> 
> Set in a post-Endgame world where NO ONE DIES and Steve did a dance with Peggy and then hightailed it back to the 21st century where he belongs because he respects her agency and life and just wanted a touch of closure. No, I don't have strong feelings about it, why do you ask.

Bucky had fleeting memories of the 21st century from before he found Steve, but they mostly involved confusion, discomfort, and anger. Anger at himself, anger at the confusion, anger at the fucking arm that often operated with a mind of its own. 

After finding Steve, the memories became more solid, but so did the emotions. Confusion stayed, anger was entirely directed at Hydra, and the shame got so crippling at moments that he couldn’t breathe. Stark told him they were panic attacks, those times where he felt like Steve in 1935. 

_“Your body is all linked, Elsa,” Tony explained one night. “Your brain controls your body, so when your brain is in panic, so is your body.”_

_“That makes,” Bucky said slowly, “a surprising amount of sense.”_

_“Yeah, and you and me? All the shit that they make now to control brains in good ways - like anxiety medication - we can’t use. Me because,” he gestured to his body, still battered from Thanos, “this thing just can’t take it, and you because, well -”_

_“I’m a bastardized Steve?”_

_“Was going to go with super soldier of unknown derivation, but that works too.”_

Bucky was surprised, to be fair, that all of the treatments that Shuri did for him didn’t take away the underlying panic that seemed to crop up out of nowhere and take his breath from his body. 

_“White Boy, I am good, but I am not a god,” she tsked when he asked her about why he still got the panic attacks. “I took away your trigger words, I rewrote your memories, I rebuilt your shoulder so Tin Can could give you a new arm, was that not enough?”_

_He smiled into the hologram. “Shuri, it was all more than enough. You know you’re my best girl.”_

_“Flirting will get you nowhere, colonizer,” she said with an impish grin. “Now, go and tell Mrs. Pepper to get you a therapist.”_

So he tried therapy. 

It helped… ish. Pepper found him someone with a really high security clearance so that he could talk freely, but there was still the times at 2am when he shot straight up in bed and scared the living shit out Steve. 

So he tried yoga. The arm was… a complication, and all of the various AIs in the various houses had too many screenshots of him falling on his ass already.

He tried meditation, and acupuncture, and those weird oils that Peter complained about all of May’s friends selling. 

Finally, one Sunday morning, he thought maybe he discovered the answer. 

Sunday mornings of retirement had become a quiet gift. Steve was always out - he worked with May at one of the Blip Shelters (still a dumb fucking name if you asked Bucky) to teach self-defense and cook things and pose for selfies and whatever because _of course he did_ \- and Bucky always stayed in bed in their hidden away Brooklyn brownstone and watched CBS Sunday Morning. 

Jane Pauley was his _girl_.

About eight months after he de-dusted and settled into this new life, they had a segment on weighted blankets. Evidently, they’d been a craze while he was dusty, but were making a comeback. He heard about the science behind why the weight made the anxiety symptoms less harsh, and asked Charlie - he and Steve’s AI - for some additional research. 

“Jamie,” Charlie said after a few moments, “they could be effective for your sleeping habits.”

“Okay, we have talked about Jamie, Charlie. I don’t care how often Stark threatens to rewire you, Friday will never let him. Now, talk to me about how they’ll affect Steve,” he replied. 

“They shouldn’t, sir,” Charlie replied quickly, emphasizing Bucky’s preferred address. “Each blanket is a single, and one orders based on one’s weight.”

“I have a feeling ‘able to throw cars when necessary’ is not a category?”

“Correct,” and Bucky could hear just the hint of a smile he detected in the AI every so often. “You may want to consider multiple blankets.”

“What’s the heaviest?”

“The top rated brand can provide comfort to someone of 350lbs with their heaviest model,” Charlie replied. “My calculations indicate-”

“Five, Charlie, let’s try five.”

“Standby,” Charlie replied. “They’ll arrive by tomorrow evening.”

“Charlie, you remain my best fella, just don’t tell Steve.”

“Your affections shall remain our secret, sir.”

Bucky grinned and went to go fix himself another cup of coffee. 

The next night, Bucky was arranging two of the blankets on top of him and Steve was staring. "A little help?"

“Okay, what the hell,” Steve finally said. 

Bucky smirked. “Stop stewing, punk, and just ask next time. They’re weighted blankets, they’re supposed to help with my panic attacks and insomnia, but there are three more on the floor that I need you to put on me.”

“Because?”

“Having something heavy, but not crushing, communicates safety to your nervous system and it can tell your brain to calm the fuck down,” Bucky replied, deciding that the arm had to be outside the covers and arranging himself so. 

“You need something heavy to lie on top of you?” Steve quirked an eyebrow, as he climbed out of his side of the bed and arranged the additional blankets. “I feel like I could have saved us the money.”

“Yeah, but you have arms and legs and shit, I’m not looking for a weighted octopus, and I was looking for something more…”

“Flat?”

“I was going to go with frozen, but that felt mean.”

Steve rolled his eyes and finished arranging. “Okay, Buck. Just let me know if the blankets work or if you want to shift to weighted octopus.”

Bucky wiggled his eyebrows. “We could probably work out a schedule.”

Steve smiled softly and gave Bucky a gentle kiss. “I hope they work, handsome. If they don’t, I’ll see what I can do.”


End file.
